


Tomorrow Will Take It Away

by SebastianDragon



Series: The Other Side [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: AU, Action, Angst, Hickey's swearing and drinking, Historical events with Charles Lee have their influence here, Kidnapping, M/M, Modern, Shaun Hastings/Rebecca Crane (implied), Templar Boyband - Freeform, chaytham - Freeform, templar!Connor, the assassins are not so good and perfect as they are often displayed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1560785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebastianDragon/pseuds/SebastianDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern time AU.<br/>The Templars retrieve the Third Apple of Eden from the bottom of the ocean. The Assassins, though, are not inclined to let them have it for long.<br/>They are also scheming on how to get Desmond Miles' body from the laboratories of Abstergo Industries, and Abstergo better gain knowledge of their moves sooner - when it is not late yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Will Go Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luthienberen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/gifts).



> I'm terribly sorry for any mistakes. I'm not English.  
> I hope you'll like the story, though I won't be able to update very often - my exams are approaching and I spend really some time on translation:)
> 
> Special thanks to Luthienberen for inspiring me with her wonderful work "Drunken Shenanigans":  
> archiveofourown.org/works/1074971/chapters/2158425  
> And special thanks to Luthienberen for betaying my work and discussing it with me!

"Thomas," Haytham's icy voice made not only the named man turn abruptly to face him, but also the red skinned one, who sat beside Thomas on the sofa.

"Well, what?" Thomas made the most angelic face of those he had done in his entire life. "Nay, I 'aven't brought any alco'ol with me".

"I know that," said Haytham. "Yet I have no desire to climb under the sofa to retrieve a bottle from there. You can well do it yourself. But as for the second bottle, the third, the fourth, the fifth..."

The red skinned young man giggled and shoved Hickey with an elbow to the ribs.

"Not so many!" immediately protested Thomas.

"The sixth and the seventh ones," continued Haytham, completely uninterested in Hickey's injured dignity, "will be left there. And don't you think that neither Charles, or me don't happen to know where you hide alcohol when you visit our flat."

Kenway turned his back to them and opened the mini-bar.

"William, Benjamin, Jonathan, anything in particular you'd like to drink?"

"No, thank you," Pitcairn shook his head, while Church rose his eyes from his IPad only for a second. "I'm too into calculating, don't want anything to disturb."

"If you happen to have ginger ale, though..." started Johnson.

"Of course," Haytham shut the mini-bar and headed for the corridor which lead to the kitchen. "I'll just get some out of the fridge, because that's where Charles is used to keep it."

Johnson had already leaped up and opened his mouth to say he hadn't wanted to be trouble, but was pinned to the spot by Haytham's murderous gaze and sank down into his armchair.

Haytham left the dining room.

"Grab the beer!" cried Hickey in a hoarse whisper and clapped his neighbor on the shoulder. He bent down and then indeed pulled a bottle of beer from under the sofa.

Johnson cast an accusing glance in his direction but otherwise remained silent.

"I've heard it," stated Haytham from the kitchen. "And I swear to God, Thomas, if you try to make my son drink with you again, I'll rip your throat out."

Hickey shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. When Haytham's tone turned to that kind of steel, one better not try any jokes on him.

Connor on his side winced.  
"I'm not going to drink this shit anyway, father".

"Stop cursing like a drunkard, Connor," was the answer.

William smirked immediately.  
"He meant: stop cursing like Thomas, Connor."

Just as Hickey was about to throw something snarky into Johnson's face a single bell-call rang in the hallway and a key started opening the door.

"Here you are," Haytham appeared in the dining room out of nowhere and handed William a bottle filled with amber-colored liquid. “I’ll meet Charles and be right back, if you’re okay with that."

It was more of a statement that needed no confirmation than an actual question, and so the elder Kenway disappeared into thin air once more.

Once he left Thomas uncorked his bottle and sipped the beer with sheer delight.

“O’r Charlie’s late at last."

Connor just shook his head and grinning pointed at the clock.

“Yours are just early."

“ ‘kay, fuck it,” with no disappointment at all replied Hickey.

Johnson glared daggers at him once more. Thomas paid him no attention and just made another gulp.

“Good evening, Charles,” Haytham’s voice called from the hallway.

“Evening, sir!” Charles sounded suspiciously happy and Connor for the first time in the day let himself inhale properly.

Charles’s tone meant that the operation had went strictly as it had been planned.

“I mean… Hello, Haytham.”

For a moment everything went silent.

Hickey smirked and after making another gulp released the bottle from the capture of his lips with a certain pop that reminded everyone in the room of a wet kiss.

“Go to hell,” said Connor, not even needing to look at Thomas’ smug expression.

He was really unbothered by the fact that his father and his best friend started sleeping with each other, like, a year ago. In fact, Ratonhnhake:ton was happy for them.

No one from the Inner Circle of the Order was under any illusions about Charles’ feelings for Haytham – that kind of passion and respect which bordered pure admiration, but it was quite unexpected that the reserved and coldblooded Grandmaster shared the feelings towards his first seneschal.

Connor had also never known, even if he’d lived with both of them for half of his life. Needless to say, it had been Haytham and Charles who had pulled little Ratonhnhake:ton out of depression after his mother had fallen in coma after a vicious car crash almost sixteen years ago from now. It had been them who had taken care of him during the long period of Ziio’s recovery and it had been them who had made every effort to make sure Ziio could return to having a normal life afterwards.

Well, now Connor understood why Lee had never liked his mother much.

After Kaniehti:io had recovered to the point of returning home, either Haytham or Charles (sometimes both) had been paying them a visit at least once a week to ensure that everything was going on well. Before the accident Connor had happened to see his father only once – on a conference on TV. 

That was when Ziio had pointed at the screen and said: “that’s how your dad looks like, Ratonhnhake:ton."

He had never understood why Haytham and his mother broke up until his fifteenth birthday came. That was the time when Haytham’d revealed who he really was, what he and his friends did, what were the goals of Order and what future young Ratonhnhake:ton could have. Connor had been already grown enough to think with his own head.

And so he did. He thought. For half a year he had been thinking over his father’s offer.  
Ziio knew but never said a word, perhaps letting the choice be only his.

And he had chosen.

He had never forgotten how kind the Templars had been to him and his mother, when they had needed something to hold on to, though neither did Haytham nor, moreover, Charles or William or hell, Thomas, owe something to Ziio who had abandoned Kenway in the first place.

He had never forgotten how William had spent sleepless nights with him so he wouldn’t feel alone when Haytham and Charles got stuck at work, how Benjamin had read him books, how Jonathan had once taken him to a shooting gallery after a sad story about going there with a friend and not winning any trophy. It had been Pitcairn, of course, who had shot down 9 of 10 targets (little Connor had been very impressed with his skills) and won the big stuffed elephant, but Ratonhnhake:ton had managed to shoot down one and had already been squeaking with pleasure.

Still, Hickey had been the best, except for Charles and father – Thomas had taught him how to climb trees, how to shoot down birds with a slingshot (Ziio had been very displeased when she had learnt of that and Connor obeyed her, never hurting living creatures again). It had been Thomas who once had spent an entire night exploding petards beneath the window of Ratonhnhake:ton’s schoolmate who bullied the boy because he was red skinned.

The police, having come four times to the place where the crime’d been occurring, had Hickey show up in front of them during the last time and had left never to return again. Right after their leave a clear message written in flame letters one meter high each appeared beneath the same window saying: “Never touch me again”. No one had ever dared to bully him at school after that.

Connor was forced to leave his memories for Charles strode into the room, Haytham on his heels, clutching a black leather bag in what seemed slightly trembling hands.

“Good evening, gentlemen, I’m sorry I’m late. Manhattan today is just one big ugly traffic jam."

“Manhattan each day is one big ugly traffic jam,” uttered Thomas, though his eyes were almost glued to the bag Charles brought with him.

Connor cast a glance at the others to ensure that they were just as interested in what was going to occur as he was. Indeed, Will was clutching at his ginger ale bottle, John sat unmoving and even Ben had torn his eyes from his IPad.

“Come on, Charles,” encouraged Haytham. “I guess we are all as eager to hear it as much as you want to tell it."

Lee put the bag on the coffee table that stood next to the sofa and, flicking his tongue over his lips nervously, said:  
“Yes, the operation had been successful."

Dead silence fell over the room and one could hear the otherwise soundless clock ticking on the wall. Charles smiled and put his hand into the bag.

“So, ladies and gentlemen,” he began and almost immediately shot a dark glance at Thomas, who had already opened his mouth to say something about the only lady named “Charlotte” among them. “Let me present you…”

He pulled his hand out and held the object on his palm.

“The Apple of Eden."

Connor leaned forward to take a better look. The sphere glimmered with gold and was covered in some unknown geometrical writings – the language of Those Who Came Before, he knew.

Even now the power which coursed through the Apple could be felt. It filled the room with some dark kind of pressure that revealed itself in a light ring in Connor’s ears and a heavier feeling in his heart. A… greedy one.

In a sudden surge of fear mixed with rage Connor shoved the feeling away.

It stayed though, haunting, a mere whisper in the corner of his soul. A whisper, promising him control and power once he takes it.

“I don’t like this fucking shit,” stated Thomas and for once everybody in the room seemed to agree.

“It’s of great use though,” replied Haytham. “And it can be controlled."

“Are you sure it is the “third” Apple?” asked Church, casting a suspicious glance at the golden sphere in Charles’s hand. “The one that George Washington himself had cast into the sea?”

“Abstergo doesn’t have submarines and bathyscaphes for nothing, Ben,” shrugged William. “Believe me, I was the one to calculate its exact coordinates in the first place. It took a helluva lot of time to do that."

“Yes, Ben, it _is_ the Third Apple of Eden," said Haytham.

No one asked any more questions. If the Grandmaster Haytham Kenway stated it was the Third Apple of Eden, it most surely was the named thing.

Haytham turned his head to Charles and then smiled reassuringly at him – a kind of smile that Connor was used to receive when he did something smart – a gentle, loving and appreciating smile.

Charles brightened up immediately and carefully handed Haytham the object.

Kenway put it in his chair with an unbelievable casualty and caught Charles’ hand.

“You did a great job, Charles,” he said in what sounded more like an intimate whisper. “I’m so proud that you had chosen to serve our cause."

Connor never knew a man could gleam with more delight than Charles already did.

“May the Father of Understanding guide us,” Lee answered in a whisper.

“May the Father of Understanding guide us,” echoed the gathering in one choir.


	2. Shine Into My Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the mess begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to LuthienBeren for all the inspiration!  
> I'm also posting the chapter this early in an attempt to make you feel better:)
> 
>  
> 
> Also, 'Sangreal' means either San Greal (the Holy Grail), or Sang Real (Royal Blood, (french)).

“Something’s wrong”, Haytham put his cup of tea down on the office table and frowned, once again looking at his watch. “Charles should have already called me ten minutes ago”.

“Maybe he’s just late?” shrugged Connor, who was sitting comfortably on the same table.

His father has never approved of sitting on surfaces which had not been done for such purposes, but sometimes the young man simply didn’t care. Hickey has always agreed with Connor that if the world was to fall on its knees in front of Haytham one day, it can well become a monastery. A neat, perfect, with everything-in-its-right-place monastery.

“Till Charlie comes in and crumbles it with ‘is forbidden love”, laughed Thomas in times when no one had known about Haytham’s attitude towards his seneschal. “Then we will get to see a crying Haytham at last or so I guess”.

“Charles is never late”, Haytham shook his head and Connor knew that Hickey’s theory about “the crumbling everything Charles” has just shattered. “He knows better than to be doing it”.

Connor sipped at his coffee.

“So…” he began.

He was never to finish because Haytham’s Samsung rang at last.

Ratonhnhake:ton winced at the sharp sound, his father’s ringtone being nothing of what Connor was used to: no melody, no lyrics, just a steady ‘r-ring’ to go mad of.

There had been an incident in Connor’s life, when he, being in his early teens, had put Rammstein’s “You’ve got a pussy, I have a dick” as a ringtone on his father’s mobile phone.

To Haytham’s credit (and Connor’s utter disappointment), the man hadn’t even changed in the face.

And, well, though Thomas had nearly laughed his head off on hearing those ‘pussy-dicks’ from Haytham Kenway’s mobile phone and Benjamin, who had also been present at the moment, had almost choked to death on his herbal tea, the scolding Ratonhnhake:ton had gotten afterwards hadn’t been worth the trick.

“It’s William”, Haytham dropped before answering the call. “Yes, Will? …No, he hasn’t phoned yet. Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to check his route, ah?”

Connor sipped at his coffee again and found out it was already getting cold. Damn, Charles was really late.

Haytham’s going to kill him.

“…Wait, what?” his father suddenly said in a harsh voice. “Where?”

Alarm torn through Connor’s body at the sound of this. Something was going very, very wrong, if Haytham Kenway was in need to speak like _this_.

And Charles better be alright, otherwise Connor’s going to kill him himself.

Ratonhnhake:ton put his mug on the table’s surface with a bang and motioned emotionally for Haytham to switch on the dynamics.

Surprisingly, his father did as he was asked, his eyes somewhat distant and clouded as he continued listening to William.

Something _is_ was terribly, awfully wrong.

Connor has never seen such an empty expression on Haytham’s face.

His heart sank as memories of his mother in hospital after the car crash re-appeared. Her white pale face, doctors hurrying around, the strong scent of bitter medicaments and a horrible feeling of loneliness. Of abandonment.

No.

Charles was alright.

Had to be alright.

“… found his 'Fiat' half-burnt just on the outskirts of Bronx, end of Park Ave, – I’ll send you the exact coordinates as soon as I get there. It seems he has crashed on his way to Manhattan”, William was saying, and in his tone sounded something much akin to rising panic. “But Haytham… There is no one there. Do you hear me? I repeat: I’m being told there is no one there”.

“What do you mean by ‘no one there’?” Connor heard someone asking in heavy voice. He stared at his father until he realized it had been himself.

“Connor, you there too, lad?” Johnson suddenly sounded weary, as if he hadn’t been sleeping for three nights. He probably hadn’t, with all the daily work he has to do as the Chief of Monitoring and Electronics Department. “We need you both there, I’m already on my way. I repeat again: as my secretary says, Charles’ escort is nowhere to be found and there is no one in Charles’ car. The main radio transmitter has been cut out and broken – that’s the reason we’ve found the car only after fifteen minutes of searching”.

There was silence and afterwards:

“I’ll be getting the video in two seconds… Yes, Haytham, I’m sending it to your number right now. I’m afraid there are more bad news…” William’s voice sank and Connor barely suppressed a shudder.

But Charles wasn’t in the car. Which means he is alive and he surely hadn’t crashed at all, both William and father know it as well as he does.

The situation had only option left, which was barely believ…

“The container with the Apple is missing too”.

Or not.

Connor felt his heart racing with both fear and relief. Charles was definitely alive.

But he was also hostage in the hands of the Templar’s greatest enemy.

“Assassins”, Haytham snarled, and one could hear the unknown before hatred filling his voice with its venom. With the latter words, however, the Grandmaster’s voice changed rapidly to that of calmness and deceptive disinterest. “Forbid your operation group to touch anything until all of us arrive, William. Double-check all the surroundings. Keep your eye on the near-by heights and call an armed squad of Abstergo’s high-trained Templar-guards. Make sure it’s not a trap for all of us. I’ll call Thomas and Benjamin myself”.

“Aye, sir”, replied Johnson, obviously relieved to at last be receiving instructions.

Connor envied him slightly, he himself didn’t have commands to distract to.

And fuck he wished to distract himself from his own mind.

Still… Charles was as much of everything to him, as was Haytham. He has been there for him for just as long. Has kept him safe and calmed him down in his soothing but a bit rudely manner if Ratonhnhake:ton had been hurt.

And it’s blood ties that keep him calling only the Grandmaster ‘father’.

“Connor”, Haytham stepped up to him and was now looking into his face. “I hope you’re for that, yet I…”.

“I’m ready”, Connor answered merely. “He is my friend as much as he is your lover”.

It still sounded weird sometimes: ‘lover’.

Haytham just nodded solemnly.

“Let’s go. We’ll have to explore the video Johnson has sent on our way”.

 

***

The whole place was swarming with Abstergo's agents. Half of them were the Templars from the Inner Circle and were now working in most closure to the remnants of the car. Guards blocked the perimeter, M16 in hands of each, Glocks-19 tucked into hip holsters.

Police sirens were howling desperately all around them.

"The buildings are all clear, the roofs - empty", Pitcairn pursed his lips as he glanced back from Haytham's 'Ford' to Charles’ abandoned and now half-burned and coated with soot 'Fiat'. "Whoever did this will pay the debt. With interests".

"Chill out, John", Haytham's hand gently clasped his shoulder and squeezed, "for it's no use to be breathing fire like a dragon, our victim's already gone".

“Doesn’t matter”, John muttered. “I’m not just leaving this to be”.

“No one’s leaving it to be”.

“It’s a challenge, can’t you see it!” Pitcairn gestured widely at the scene. “It means they feel themselves safe enough to just kidnap our agents in the middle of the day. And not just _some_ agents, but the Grandmaster’s right-hand man!”

“Or they may only feel desperate enough”, was Haytham’s quiet answer. “And for Christ’s sake, John, give orders to the police so they turn those sirens off, because it’s drawing too much attention – and I don’t want press to try and sneak up on us”.

Connor didn’t listen attentively to them, leaning instead on the 'Ford' and scrutinizingly examining the "crime scene".

It actually seemed like a car crash at a glimpse, but the more laboriously he inspected the surroundings, the more the truth came up.

The front of the ‘Fiat’ was smashed by the tree trunk in which the car was supposed to had crashed into. The left front door – the one where the driver always sits – was torn off, and ugly black wires were dangling from the smashed capote.  
Smoke was still rising up from it, and a heavy scent of burned plastic and rubber hung in the air.

There was no blood to be seen and the missing left door, which was lying on the pavement several meters away, made Connor suspect that it had been torn off before the crash occured. That the Assassin had steered the car in a needed direction and had jumped out mere seconds before it collided with the tree, surely to leave the Templars wondering if it had been an accident and to buy himself time.

It seemed his father had come to the same conclusion for just as Connor’s opened his mouth, Haytham pointed at the door:

“It hasn’t happened during the crash”.

“What?” frowned Pitcairn, who had been interrupted by the Grandmaster’s replica mid-sentence.

“The door”, Connor explained and immediately received an appreciating glance from his father. Should it have been in other circumstances Ratonhnhake:ton would have taken time to feel proud. “It has been torn off on purpose for the Assassin to jump out of the driver’s seat before the crash”.

It looked like everything was now even more complicated to Jonathan.

“Right then,” Haytham’s eyes darted to the nearest roof for a brief second. “John, you take Benjamin in case you find the escort and three squads in separate cars with no Abstergo insignia on them. I want you to head off in the direction Charles’s group came and I want all the four cars to go separate ways. I also want each team to have its own radio. Your mission is to search for the escort and to find in which direction the attackers have gone or came from”.

“Yes, sir”, nodded Pitcairn. “And what if we run into them on the road?”

“If there’s no time to contact me then act depending on the situation. We need Charles alive and the Apple back, but not with the risk of losing valuable lives.”.

“Understood”, the man nodded. “Your call-signal, sir?”

“Usual one. The transmission channel is the third one”. Haytham turned to Connor. “But firstly I need you to check that we’re not being watched”.

Connor simply thrust out a hand in the direction of the nearest guard. His gesture was understood at once and a pair of binoculars along with a radio were handed to him.

In times such as this, Ratonhnhake:ton thought himself to be lucky to have been born the Grandmaster’s son.

In most times though, the trembling of every single one of Abstergo’s employees at the only site of him annoyed the hell out of the young man.

“Shall I get Thomas for you?” John asked and pointed to the group working near the car. “He’s with William there trying to be useful and as usual failing”.

“I’ll be more concealed if I’m alone, I guess”, Connor answered and giving no time for anyone else to argue broke off in a run to the nearest building.

Ever since he had started practicing free-running at the age of ten, he has never liked New York due to the city consisting of high smooth and mostly glassy offices and flat-blocks.

Ratonhnhake:ton started his way up from a street lantern, jumping from it to grip with both hands on the narrow ledge that twined the nearest building.

He glanced down once – only to see that his father has already busied himself with giving more orders, his dark blue scarf flaunting in the cool autumn wind, and to spot William, who was rootling in the remnants of the car.

Thomas was indeed by Johnson’s side, idly watching him work. There was a M16 in his hands and once in a while Hickey would intently scan the surroundings with his eyes.

There was obvious tension in his features when he spotted Connor but then recognition flashed over his face. Hickey grinned, not so cheerful as usual though, and waved his hand.

He looked strangely sober, Connor thought to himself, and looking at the nearly 100% smooth stonewall he was climbing up decided against waving back.

***

The wind at the top of a thirteen storey office-building (Ratonhnhake:ton thought better not to try and climb any higher) was so strong, that Connor had actually have to plaster himself all over the rooftop not to risk being blown away and down to the pavement.

Which was a hell of a long way to fall.

So he lay there, scanning what he could through his binoculars, searching almost desperately for any sign of the Assassins, any sign they might have left for their enemies – they must have if they wanted something from them, mustn’t they? – for anything.

Charles was supposed to go to the Precursor’s Site and see if the Apple was the Piece of Eden that was meant to be opening the gate, because the last time – December 2012, when Abstergo was ready to storm the Site, Haytham had told him the door had been open and they had found nothing except for Desmond Miles’ dead body.

Where had the other Assassins been and why would they have left one of their Order has still remained a mystery.

The other buildings where of course empty. Ratonhnhake:ton shivered when a particularly nasty onset of wind has waded right through his jacket, skin and muscle and seemed to freeze his bones.

The sky was darkening rapidly – as it always did in New York during sunset – and the air felt all too fresh. It definitely was going to rain soon.

Connor put the binoculars aside. There was little use for them in the growing darkness. And he himself better be done with this as quick as possible – both to let John and Ben set off at last and not to risk breaking his neck climbing down in the dark.

Ratonhnhake:ton blinked hard once, twice and then stared wide-eyed at the Abstergo people working down below.

And as soon as his eyes started burning like someone has splashed salt water into them and the wind squeezed tears, the world around him changed.

All seemed to grow even darker and lose its natural colour, turning to miscellaneous shades of gray, black and dark blue. The people below changed to a shining mass of blue, with his father, Hickey, Johnson, Pitcairn and Church glimmering an even more intense blue color.

White shone all the ledges and timbers and holds to ease Connor’s way down the building and golden blazed the broken car.

There was no red splashes of color to be spotted and the only golden light was the one that spread from Charles’ car.

Ratonhnhake:ton roamed his eyes all over the place, trying to see something, anything that would have give him any clues.

There was nothing.

Which was shit.

Connor let out a deep frustrated sigh and, glancing around one more time, blinked again to return to his normal vision and switched on the radio. It buzzed and spluttered interference for nearly half a minute before the young man could actually say something into it and be sure he was heard.

“ ‘Sangreall’?” Ratonhnhake:ton took a moment to calm down the shiver from another gush of wind and make his teeth stop clattering. “ ‘Sangreal’, do you reach?”

“Yes, ‘Aquila’, ‘Sangreal’ connects”, Haytham answered, his voice breaking over through the transmitter. “Report”.

“All seems to be clear, sir. There is no one to be spotted from my place and I heavily doubt the option of someone to be waiting along the road as it is growing dark. I’ve scanned the place with the Eagle Vision as well, sir, and there still is nothing to double-check”.

“Got it, well done. ‘Aquila’ returns to base. End of session”.

Connor tucked the radio into the front pocket of his jacket and hung the binoculars around his neck before starting his road down.

Before he had literally taken one step down, the engines below roared and from his position the young man could see cars taking off and disappearing in four separate streets.

What Connor adored perhaps most about his father was the speed with which everything under his command was done together with order, composure and selfcollection.

Connor watched them go and then carefully crouched on the edge of the rooftop, gripped the stone with both hands and let himself slide down the side of the building until his legs found a ledge just wide enough to balance upon.

***

When Connor’s feet hit the solid ground at last, the first person to reach him was Hickey. While the young man expected some snarky comment on his climbing skills / if he had enjoyed the time chilling on the rooftop / the long way to fall down / “ye better find a girl than ‘ave to release yerself in such da poor way as climbin’ walls” / etc., Thomas seemed to appear even more gloomy than Pitcairn had been when Connor and Haytham had only arrived.

Looking into Hickey’s pale-blue eyes containing no usual mockery made Connor’s heart sink.

Again up came the memories of pale Ziio, white stainless walls of the hospital, the strong, almost unbearable scent of medicaments – and a hollow feeling in his chest. Like something there has been torn out – up came the bright recent memory of the torn off car door – and been replaced with nothing.

Could have been replaced by nothing.

“What have you found?” the young man asked before Thomas had ever had an opportunity to open his mouth.

“If ye be dat clever, come see yer Dad!” now there was the mocking voice at last. The memories faded at once, and Ratonhnhake:ton let himself relax a little – whatever the new information was, it was not the worst sort. “Dere is smth for ye to ‘ear”.

So Connor followed Thomas’ motion to go after him without any comments.

Agents were still working, some making phone calls, some scribbling something down in their journals with silver Abstergo insignia’s on the front covers. One of the agents seemed to be recording a video on an Abstergo camera.

With no 'Fourth Estate' present, Ratonhnhake:ton was left to believe that the information on the so-called car crash was to remain confidential for a while. Which has to have been the wise choice of his father.

Who was still at the car with William, as Connor had seen from the rooftop, yet now both men where deeply involved in investigating some small object Haytham was holding in his hand.

“Ah, Connor”, Haytham gestured him to come closer. “I’ve got to tell you that me, John and Benjamin have received information from Abstergo’s helicopters on the whereabouts of Charles’ escort. It seems Charles had left the Precursor’s Site alone”.

“Ughm, pardon me, sir?” Connor couldn’t stop himself from quirking an eyebrow quizzically. But only after the words have left his mouth, it dawned upon him. “You mean… You mean they were all dead before Charles had left the Site?”

“Benjamin will be there to investigate himself”, Haytham answered. “But from what we know for now, that is exactly what had happened”.

“Why didn’t he contact us then? This theory lacks any bit of logic!” Connor exclaimed. A suggestion as such sounded complete nonsense and the young man was quite gobsmacked with his father believing such an idea in the first place.

“Here, take this, switch it on”, Haytham handed him the small object he has been holding since Connor and Thomas came up to him. “Maybe it’ll be enough to change your mind”.

Ratonhnhake:ton obediently took the gadget. It looked like a dictophone reduction and, pushing the “On” button on the side of it, he understood that he wasn’t wrong.

 _“It is not in my creed to greet enemies, ‘Sangreal’ ”_ , an unknown male voice spoke, though “creed” and “Sangreal” spoke for themselves (Connor wondered if it was a coincidence, or had the Assassins somehow managed to break all the layers of electronic defense and have been listening-in to all their conversations), _“so I’ll go straight to the point. I know that your Grandmaster would prefer it as well, and I, for once in a lifetime, may agree with him_.

_It happens that we have your agent – and one of great importance not only to Abstergo Industries, but, as we know, to Haytham Kenway personally. Moreover, we withhold an ‘object’ of yours, one that may be of even more importance than the agent._

_Therefore, we suggest an exchange._

_We, on our side, will return your Grandmaster both the agent and the ‘object’ personally, must he come to the particular Site on the outskirts of New York._

_He, if willing to fulfill his side of the offered bargain, must come with no more than two other men and, firstly, he must return us Desmond Miles’ body, which is serving for investigation in Abstergo laboratories for now. He must also reveal the details about where the ‘object’ has been found._

_If you agree to the deal and then try any sort of tricks, the agent will die on the spot”._

For the first time during the recording Connor risked a glance at father. Haytham seemed to remain completely unaffected by the Assassin’s speech, though one who knew him better would spot alert behind his usual confident blue-gray gaze.

Connor had spotted it.

_“And if you happen to wonder where the agent’s escort is”, the male voice continued and Ratonhnhake:ton once again turned into listening, “then I’ll tell you that it has stayed at the Site cause there was no need in it. Be also sure that if we wouldn’t have wanted for you to find any remnants or bodies, you never would have found them yourselves. If I were you, I’d keep in mind that the scene you behold now while listening to me speaking has been thoroughly planned to draw your attention and for you to find this gadget”._

“Dats when da message ‘bout escort came”, murmured Thomas, glaring at the dictophone with such hatred that could stares kill, the gadget would have already melted into metal. “Twas reported no survivors”.

_“We will be waiting till the day after tomorrow. Afterwards, if we don’t receive any answer, we will act using our own discretions, which may not suit your liking. So I suggest you hurry up and all of us be done with this mess._

_Waiting for your feedback, ‘Sangreal’ ”_ , it seemed the speaker had been grinning at the last word as he punctured it with most venom.

Connor was silent, trying to collect his thoughts on the matter.

On one hand, what he had just heard was nothing but an ultimatum and Abstergo wasn’t the one to yield to such a thing immediately and it was highly unlikely to do so now. On the other hand, they were talking about the life of Grandmaster’s seneschal and a Piece of Eden and if one asked Connor, he’d have let the Assassins have another Apple to get Charles back alive.

Haytham wouldn’t approve of such an idea, though. Might even think his son not fit to stay in the Order anymore.

So Ratonhnhake:ton kept silent.

“It’s William Miles’ voice, in case you’re wondering”, Haytham reached his hand and surprisingly gently retrieved the dictophone. “Desmond Miles’ father and one can well say Master of the Assassins”.

“Right”, nodded Connor. “And so… What the hell are we supposed to do now, huh?”

“Fuck their cunts back into the asshole they came from”, Thomas growled, but William was the only one to throw a murdering glare his way.

“The Assassins have never been the ones to be joking around”, Haytham said. He looked up at the darkening sky and only then did Connor notice that it had started raining, first heavy cold drops landing on the pavement. His father’s dark blue scarf was thrown to the side with a gust of wind.

“Or to be joked with”.


	3. Move Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it moves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little crossover with Watchdogs - not significant to the plot at all but for those who (as me) think the two games to happen in one universe.
> 
> The next chapter is going to be the one where the true action starts.
> 
> Special thanks to Luthienberen for betaing this, pointing out my mistakes and making the whole process better and more enjoyable. Thank you, dear!

Chapter 3.

“This is insane!” snapped Pitcairn, closing his laptop rapidly with a menacing “smack”. “What the fuck is this, Haytham, you think you’re an immortal god?”.

All the gathering fell silent at that with each person’s eyes fixed unbelievably on Jonathan. Connor never remembered him saying such words in such a tone in his whole lifetime. Bet the others hadn't either, due to their astonished looks.

“Ughm, I beg my pardon, sirs,” Pitcairn cleared his throat, now being clearly confused with what he had just let his tongue slip with. “But what you are suggesting from my point of view is going to end up as a suicide mission.”

“I believe the Assassins to keep their word, John," Haytham told him. “And, anyway, I don’t see a better variant. If you happen to have any ideas, please, share.”

“I suggest we all go there and we take two squads ten men each,” John put his laptop aside and crossed his arms on his chest, his blue eyes glowing confidently at the gathering. “Just as you said, Haytham, you, Connor and me go inside, so Charles won’t be in danger. Letting the others stay outside in case the Assassins try and make a breakthrough for it…”

“Why on earth would they want to leave their beloved Site?” asked Benjamin. “It seems now it’s not like they have anywhere else to go, by the way, so…”

“Listen to me, brother, please,” Pitcairn has managed to keep his voice level, but he clearly looked annoyed at being interrupted, “and then, perhaps, all of your questions will be answered.”

Connor stole a glance at the clock.

3 AM.

They have been sitting in Haytham’s office in the main Abstergo Industries’ building since they got back here after completing the examination of Charles’ ‘Fiat’ and its surroundings.

John and Ben arrived later with their own report and Church wearing a particularly dark expression on his face, meaning that he had done everything he could, but still none were managed to be saved.

It appeared that Charles’ escort _did_ leave the Site. What it did _not_ do was going far from it. There was a massive ‘accident’ on the road, which was found so late only due to the cloudy skies and low vision in the outskirts of NY together with the completely unused track that led to the Site. It seemed like the drivers had gone mad altogether at some point and decided to crash into the surroundings.

John’s first idea was that one of the drivers in the first cars had fallen asleep and that thus led to the accident. It was proved wrong after Ben reported to have found tiny punctured wounds on the side of the neck of each of the drivers – too small to cause a massive blood lost, but enough for the Assassins’ beloved poison to shut down a human’s system in two minutes. This was Ben’s latest suggestion: little poisoned needles shot from a distance, which would have felt like nothing more than a fly’s touch.

The needles themselves had not been found, but blood and saliva samples had been taken, though it would take some time before the results were known.

Due to the bulletproof windows each car had, the Assassins’ operation must have taken place near the Site, when Abstergo’s agents were out and the cars stood open.

Still, that would have taken skill of which Haytham could hardly believe the Assassins to be capable of nowadays.

“We have no idea of what their numbers are or what their purposes will be once we’ve given them the information they need,” meanwhile Pitcairn was continuing, “even if the information is false. The idea of accepting the Assassins’ rules and being sure for everything to turn out just as we would wish it to is, I’m sorry, sir, incredibly risky and most arrogant.”

Connor awaited every possible reaction from Haytham, ranging from a cold stare to some snarky comment, - but not an amused snort.

“Your honesty is most appreciated, John,” Haytham smiled. “That’s why you’re working in Abstergo and most of all the Inner Circle.

But let me not agree with you: asking only three of us to come means that the Assassins feel vulnerable even with two – I stress the number – two Apples of Eden at their command. And remembering what they had done two years ago during my stay in England and with what ease they had done that, I doubt everything is alright with their control over the Pieces.”

Gladly, Connor had been staying with his mother during Desmond Miles’ arrival to Abstergo Industries in 2012 and so hadn’t fallen victim to the Apple’s power. Or to Desmond or William Miles as Charles did now.

From their little group no one had been there in the main building that day and so Warren had been left in charge. Which had been a very poor choice, if one asked Connor, for Vidic had never been a strong one in tactics and on-spot decisions.

“This sounds reasonable…” William chopped in, but Jonathan remained immovable:

“Still not safe.”

“W’o’s said anythin’ ‘bout safety, John?” there was a huge smug grin on Thomas’ face when he pronounced the words, which certainly meant the man was up to something smart despite all the consumed alcohol during the last five hours.

Connor shot a glance in his father’s direction. Surprisingly, Haytham mirrored his son’s move even as he asked:

“So what’s your brilliant idea then?”

Thomas grinned even more self-confidently and tried to put his feet on the table only to be shoved by a still dark-faced Benjamin. Despite that, his grin didn’t lessen.

“Easy as neve’. We approach da Site in da evenin’ of da next day, William puts a virus or whatever cleva thin’ in dair cameras, which will surely be situated around da entrance, to make dem show deir own recordin’ for a minute o’ so – and let de three of us slip in unnoticed. De Assassins won’t be prepared so it’ll be easier to lull dem into givin’ us what we want – or if there is a small num’er of dem, to just kill ‘em. Others make an ambush on the outside in case somethin’ goes wrong. Agree, ‘Aytham, tis bette’ dan just goin’ inside.”

“Yes, this sounds quite a Templar-like frame of a plan, Thomas”, Haytham said, and Connor smirked, suddenly sure that he had guessed his father’s intentions:

“So we’re not going to use it.”

“Exactly.” There it was; a second approving glance from Haytham during one night (Connor thought himself progressing). “So… What would _you_ propose, my son?”

The kettle started whistling with steam at that very exact moment, signaling that another portion of hot water is ready to be mixed with coffee to keep everybody on their feet for the next hour. Connor rolled his eyes at the sound; he never knew why, but it has been bothering him since the first time he had heard it.

“I’ll make coffee for every one of you, please be seated,” it seemed Benjamin tonight was trying especially hard on keeping himself distracted from everything else. “Haytham, tea for you?”

“No, lets make an exception for coffee, thank you, Ben”.

Connor saw Benjamin arch a brow and felt quite astonished himself, because he has always thought Haytham and coffee to be irreconcilable. Leastwise he has never seen Haytham drink a cup of it during his lifetime. Clearly, this was a night of revelations.

To speak of the devil, Haytham was still eyeing him, waiting for an answer, and for Connor it was better to start speaking.

“I suggest we plan thoroughly,” Ratonhnhake:ton said, “and we go to the Site the last day proposed, so we’ll get every possible turn of events on our ‘list’ and think for solutions to each of them.”

“The idea of a sniper rifle might get most useful,” William spoke up. Connor nodded at him.

“Yep, that’s a good idea as long as we are sure no one from our side will die because of a shot sent the Assassins’ way,” he replied. “I also guess we should surprise them somehow, maybe, get them distracted on something else.”

“And what will be dat?” Thomas nearly grabbed his mug from Benjamin’s hands and half-emptied it in two gulps. “It might get dangerous for Charlie as well. And de Apple. Both of de Apples, actually.”

“We can make an explosion near the entrance,” it was Church now, who has given the last cup of coffee to William and now was clutching on his own, still standing. “Although the vault might prove fragile, so…”

“It sorrowfully _is_ fragile, Benjamin,” Haytham said.

Connor made a gulp of his coffee. By God, it was heaven. The hot liquid seemed to clear his thoughts once more and fill his limbs with energy, making him feel he could run for a mile now and not get tired.

It was an effect unlikely to stay for more than half an hour, but it was far better than nothing. 

“We may also sneak past the cameras – following Thomas’ idea of a virus here – and try to take a captive of our own,” oh, his voice sounds less of a dying one’s now, so the coffee must really had had some power over him. “It’s a dangerous idea, I myself don’t like it, it’s too risky. But it’s the most not Templar-like thing I can think of now.”

“It sounds good,” nodded Haytham. “Yet I’m not the one to follow it. Thank you, Connor… This was good. Yet this plan we are also not going to use”.

Damn him. Why does he always have to play those fucking mind games? Just tell us what you’re up to, Dad, and let’s get started, Connor silently praised.

It has always been those games, and unlike the other Templars, Ratonhnhake:ton still couldn’t get used to this shit.

“Excuse me, sir?” better not to show anything to him, anyway.

“If William Miles thinks me not to be a complete idiot, which I hope he does not, he has thought about us doing something Templar-unlike.”

“And… Does that leave us sticking to Thomas’ plan?”

“Yes, for some part of it… But mostly still no,” Haytham paused only to look down at the black coffee in his mug. “I suggest we go now. No plan. Act depending on the situation. I’ll inform Laetitia on our departure and leave her as Abstergo’s head during my absence.”

It took some time for his Father’s words to settle in Connor’s brain.

William seemed to be the first one to regain speech:

“Well, this is the _most_ Templar-unlike thing I have heard in my entire life. Most likely it’ll work.”

“It’s a crazy one as well, but it actually might work,” agreed Pitcairn.

“One… five… four…” Benjamin suddenly murmured and moved his fingers.

“Wha’ da heck are ye countin’, Ben?”

“The supplies of medicaments that are surely going to be needed,” Church smiled ruefully.

 

***

It was fifteen past four AM when Haytham’s Ford, followed closely by Thomas’ Jeep (with Ben driving, of course), finally got to the outskirts of New York. The early morning didn’t help the traffic, and the rain, which was now pouring down like a curtain, made the vehicles move even slower.

Moreover, the fog was slowly creeping out onto the highway from the damp earth below.

“Makes it easier to get there unnoticed,” John muttered.

Connor took his eyes off the road and half turned in his seat to be able to see Pitcairn’s face.

The man was wearing a grim but firm expression – the one John always wore during risky operations. His favorite M4A1 was set between his knees and Pitcairn was gripping it as if in a try to find peace in his contact with the weapon.

“The sound will still give us away,” Connor finally answered. The desperate need to sleep had faded away somehow the minute his Dad started the engine and now all Connor’s senses felt on high alert.

Haytham shook his head:

“Not if we leave the cars in a distance.”

It was then when William’s iPhone buzzed. Haytham didn’t even turn his head:

“Is it from the main investigation centre?”

“Nope. It’s from ‘Blume’. As usually, they’ve picked up the best timing,” grumbled William and picked up the phone. During the time he was listening to the faint voice on the other side his frown proceeded in growing more and more irritated.

Everybody in the car fell silent. At some point Connor managed to lock eyes with Will only for him to send Kenway his famous “I want to kill my fucking partners” glare and continue talking in a quiet, polite voice. 

It was 4:25 AM that the conversation ended.

“Haytham, I’m deeply sorry,” Johnson hissed and tucking the phone almost violently back into his pocket, “but either we’re buying their company, or they stop even bothering us!”

Haytham chuckled and turned the driving wheel.

“What is it that has happened now?”

“Well, the same that has happened the last time. They got hacked this night. Again, Haytham! And they want us to buy their security system? It’s been a month of them bothering Olivier and me and I’m done dealing with these stupid fuckers!”.

“I understand, William. But until we catch the hacker that’s doing it, we’re not done with them and we must still appear interested in their product. I still have a feeling this ‘Fox’ is somehow connected with the Assassins. Perhaps, he’s even a part of the so-called ‘Erudito’, which would make it far more interesting than just another skillful hacker. Olivier still has not returned from Chicago and though our agents are working on it no trace is yet found. We _need_ Blume, William.”

“Fine,” Johnson grumbled. “I’ll connect them to you next time and see how much time you’ll be able to hold your ire.”

“I bet my Dad can hold his ire forever,” Connor chuckled.

Haytham cast his son a side-long glance and let out snort:

“You haven’t tested me this much so far.”

“And I’d prefer not to,” responded Ratonhnhake:ton.

“Which would be very clever of you, my son.”

For some more time the only sounds that disturbed silence were the sound of tires scraping along the road and the rain hitting hard on the Ford’s roof. The fog was deepening and Haytham switched on the lights despite the highway being entirely empty. To the left and to the right everything had drowned in the milky mist, with lonely and almost ghostly silhouettes of trees standing out sometimes through the fog.

“Oh, good, I’m having a breach in my security system right now,” William stated matter-of-factly. “Whoever is the Assassins’ hacker, he’s a skillful one. Probably learned it in Abstergo.”

Connor turned to look at Johnson, frowning, only to find the man smiling and tapping energetically at his laptop. Jonathan was peering over his shoulder and obviously trying his best to make sense of whatever code Will was using now.

“Anything to worry about?” Haytham asked.

Johnson tore his hand away from the keyboard for a second to wave the Grandmaster off.

“It’s me who they are trying to hack! I’ll make them think they’ve succeeded while giving them false information. Like that that we are still in your office in Abstergo.”

“That’s good enough.”

***

It was 5 o’clock in the morning when they have finally stopped. Having left the highway a long time ago in case the Assassins had it watched, it was Thomas’ Jeep which led the way making a trail in the mud for the Ford to follow.

They would have probably travelled by car further, but the road they used had ended becoming lost in the thickening woods.

“It’s less than half a mile,” William informed. “In case somebody in our party doesn’t know, I’ve asked Charles to put a bug on the cave’s wall when he went on this damned mission to the Site and it seems that the Assassins never saw it cause it never moved from its place.”

“That’s all right,” replied Haytham. “Should be there in nearly ten minutes then.”

Connor’s boots hit the mud with an unpleasant squelch. The headphone William gave him seemed to become heavy with water hanging in the air in an instant. Shivering from the cold fog surrounding them, the young man looked at William who remained in the car.

“Maybe Charles had never had a chance to bug the wall. Maybe the Assassins had stuck the bug somewhere entirely different.”

Johnson gave a short laugh and nearly dropped his laptop because of that.

“Now, Connor, do you really think ‘Uncle William’ to be that stupid? The bug reacts to certain fingerprints and those fingerprints are Charles’.”

Connor actually hadn’t thought of that, but made a face like it was obvious all along and he was just trying to make fun of Johnson. The Abstergo’s advanced technology was still all new to him during some moments, although he had been working by his Father’s side for over half a year now. 

The young man was torn out of his discomfort by Pitcairn who nudged him in the side lightly while making his way through the mud.

“Come on, you’re not going to stand under the rain for all the morning, are you?” 

By that moment Haytham had already reached Hickey’s Jeep and tapped on the tinted window. The window slid down to reveal Benjamin’s worried face.

“Shouldn’t we call a stand-down military unit nevertheless?” he inquired. “I still don’t like your idea, Haytham, wherever you…”

“No,” was Haytham’s short answer. “Laetitia is informed. She knows what to do in case…”

“In case what, Haytham?” Benjamin gave a full-hearted sigh. “I’ve never thought you to act recklessly though now…”

“Though now tis da only thin’ left to do,” Thomas ended.

Church sent an angry glare his way but Thomas preferred to ignore it.

“There’s no time to argue about this now, Ben,” Haytham said. “All I want you to do is to move to William’s car and wait. Patiently. For two hours. If we’re not back in two hours, I give you permission to call Leticia again. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Haytham turned and nodded at Pitcairn and his son who were standing side by side.

“Right then. We’re moving out.”

“Luck, Sangreal,” William’s voice buzzed through the headphone of each man to depart. “And get our Charles back alive and well.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Tomorrow will take it away" is a modified line from "Bard's Song" by Blind Guardian.
> 
> "We will go home" is a line from the main song in "King Arthur" movie.
> 
> "Shine into my darkness" is a line from the Eurovision-2014 song of Sisters Tolmachevyu.
> 
> "Move along" is a line from a song by All American Rejects.


End file.
